


true hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings

by blackkat



Series: hawks 'verse [16]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “So what did Professor Vos want from you?” Kix asks as he picks halfheartedly at his resume, trying his best not to get distracted by the way Agen is stretched out on the thick rug.Agen hums, stretching lazily, and he’s just like a big cat. Kix watches over the edge of his computer as muscles flex, limbs curl, and Agen settles again, well-fucked and drowsy with it. “A threesome,” Agen says, amused, and his dark eyes are on Kix, warm with humor. “Of sorts. With himself and Keeli.”Kix blinks, startled on about three different levels. “A threesome?” he says, and then, “Keeli? Keeli's back? And he’s sleeping withVos?”
Relationships: Boil & Numa (Star Wars), CT-6116 | Kix/Agen Kolar, Keeli (Star Wars)/Quinlan Vos
Series: hawks 'verse [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825195
Comments: 43
Kudos: 628





	true hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings

“Uncle Kix!” Numa calls loudly.

Jarred out of his notes, Kix raises his head, turning to look, and smiles at the sight of Numa perched on Boil’s shoulders, carefully balancing a bubblegum pink pail full of flowers on his head with one hand as she waves vigorously with the other. It makes Kix laugh, and he waves back, sitting up as Boil makes his careful way across the park.

“Hello, Numa,” he says, grinning at the one and only niece the Fett family has been able to produce. Not that his brothers are trying overly hard. “Hey, Boil. No Waxer today?”

“He’s doing the grocery shopping, and he dragged Colt along with him to make sure he got fresh air at least once a month,” Boil says with a shrug, and the bucket wobbles. Numa gasps, and Boil instantly freezes, eyes wide. When nothing spills, he lets out a careful breath, then smirks at Kix. “Agen abandon you?”

Kix rolls his eyes. “Agen has papers to grade, and me being there wouldn’t exactly help that,” he retorts, and—there's no need to mention that he’s heading over there later. Boil’s never settled down, but he seems to have skipped right to the stage of stomping all over other people’s perfectly functional sexual relationships just because he wants them to be his idea of stable. “Are those flowers from your garden, Numa?”

“Yeah!” Numa says with a pleased smile. “Daddy said if I sell them all I’ll have enough to buy a kitten!”

Raising an eyebrow, Kix looks at Boil, who winces. “It’s a surprise, so don’t tell Waxer?” he tries.

Kix snorts. Waxer’s sweet enough that he probably won't mind his twin buying Numa a kitten, but _still_. “How much for the roses?” he asks, because Boil’s lavender roses have always been his favorite. He started planting them right after Numa’s mother left her with him, and Kix has never had reason to pick any before, but they’ll definitely brighten up his apartment.

“Fifty dollars!” Numa says brightly. Kix gives Boil an incredulous look, and he winces.

“We’re still working on pricing,” he says. “Whatever you want to give her is fine. Right, Numa?”

“Right,” Numa agrees serenely, and says, “Daddy, put me down!”

Boil clears his throat. “I think you're missing a word.”

“Daddy put me down, _please_ ,” Numa repeats obediently.

“Of course, Numa. Hang on to the bucket.” Boil reaches up, crouches down, and lifts Numa off his shoulders, setting her down on the path with a flourish.

Numa grins at him, gap-toothed. “Thanks, Daddy. Can I give Uncle Kix all of the roses?”

“If you want to give him all of them, that’s perfectly fine,” Boil agrees, smiling down at her, and Kix busies himself with digging out his wallet so that Boil won't see his smirk. There had been a general consensus in the family that Boil taking in his previously unknown daughter would be a disaster, given how he used to act, but—Kix has never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“How about twenty bucks?” he asks Numa, because that’s probably a fair contribution to the kitten fund. When Boil frowns at him, Kix raises his hands. “Agen spent so much time at my place this month he insisted on paying my rent. I have some extra money. And it’s a _kitten_.”

“I guess,” Boil says, a little crossly, but he doesn’t stop Numa from taking the bill, or shoving the big bunch of roses at Kix. There have to be at least two dozen, and Kix gathers them up carefully, then tucks them into the crook of his arm. He’ll have to buy a vase or something on the way home. All he has that’s the right size is an old yogurt container, and that seems wrong to use for such pretty roses.

“We should sell the dahlias next, Daddy,” Numa says imperiously, tugging at Boil’s sleeve. “Does Grampy like dahlias?”

“You just want to con him out of his candy bowl,” Boil says, amused as ever by her name for Jango, and likely Jango's lack of protest to it, but he takes her hand and picks up the pail. “All right, we can go see if he’s home. If he’s not, though, how about we go see if Waxer’s new friends want to buy some? Savage should still be at the university.”

“Okay!” Numa agrees, and swings his hand. “Bye, Uncle Kix!”

“You're a menace,” Kix tells Boil, ignoring the sharp beep of his phone going off. “Let Waxer work it out for himself.”

Boil scoffs. “I’ll let _Waxer_ work it out,” he says, “but I'm sure as hell giving Savage a push in the right direction.”

“Daddy, you said a bad word!”

Boil groans and fishes a piece of paper and a stub of pencil out of his pocket, making a mark on it. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll put all the dollars I owe you in the jar as soon as we get home.”

Numa beams. She’s going to grow up to be an evil mastermind, Kix thinks, and hides his chuckle. “Later, Numa,” he says, and she waves as she reclaims Boil’s hand. Boil vaguely waves the pail at him, already turning, and all of his attention is on Numa as she looks up at him.

It’s cute, Kix thinks, watching them walk away. He settles back on the bench, piling the roses carefully beside him, and can't help but smile to himself at the memory of Boil’s panic in the aftermath of Numa being dropped on his doorstep. Waxer has helped, since he still lives with them, but—

Well. Boil’s come a long way. It’s sweet to see.

Checking the page he’s on in his textbook, Kix fishes his phone out of his bag, frowning at a particular passage as he unlocks it. When he glances down, the message is from Agen, a brief invitation to come over for dinner, and Kix feels a flicker of anticipation. They’re just friends with benefits, but Agen is a good cook, and a dinner invitation usually means he wants Kix to spend the night. Kix had been meaning to finalize his residency applications tonight, but—the deadline isn't for a month, and he’s been stressing over possible wrong answers on his last test, and a night of fun would definitely be welcome.

He sends back his affirmative, then gathers up his books and binders and shoves them into his battered old bag, slinging it over his back and grabbing the roses. Agen will probably be willing to lend him a wet towel or something to wrap around the stems, since it’s not likely he’ll have a vase. Kix can't recall ever seeing flowers in his apartment before, at least, and he spends a few minutes amusing himself with the thought of who would bring _Agen_ , brusque and blunt and kind of intimidating, a bouquet as he heads for his car.

Even the bravest students would probably quail in the face of Agen's unimpressed stare, Kix decides, unlocking the door. He’s smiling a little over the image, more than able to picture it, Agen staring at the gift with that flat bewilderment, even the flowers wilting under his stare. It’s…amusing. From what Kix has heard, Agen's a good teacher, just…a bit imposing.

Kix is looking forward to dinner with him, even if, in the midst of grading midterms, there will probably be a tangle of controlled chaos in his sparse apartment. That’s fine, though. Kix hasn’t seen him in almost three weeks, overwhelmed with his own workload, and he’s more than ready for some fun, easy sex. It will be a good night, and Kix slides into his car, starting the engine and turning on something mellow and light on the radio that makes some of the tension ease from his neck. He can't wait.

Agen's apartment is a studio above a bookstore, which is the nerdiest thing Kix has ever encountered but suits him completely. The entrance is in the back, down a narrow alley and up a flight of steps that probably aren’t up to any sort of safety code. Neither is the wide balcony they lead to, edged with a row of pruned, potted fruit trees to give it privacy. Kix eyes them as he climbs the stairs, looking for any hints that they're going to bear fruit this year, but he can't see any. It looks like Agen added a new design in white and black stones to the dirt of each pot, though, repeating patterns that probably mean something to an astrophysicist but just look pretty to Kix, and—

Voices.

Blinking, Kix takes the last few steps up and then stops. Professor Vos, familiar from the one history requirement that Kix had to take back when he was an undergrad, is leaning against a section of the railing on the far end of the balcony, smirking up at Agen. Agen, for his part, looks faintly amused, one brow arched. He says something, low, that Kix doesn’t quite catch, but it makes Vos laugh, and he tilts his head, the beads in his dreads catching the light. Says something, and Kix takes a step and hears the quiet words resolve into, “Just think about it, okay?”

“You made sure that I would,” Agen says dryly, and Vos flashes him a grin that’s almost wicked.

“Good,” he says breezily, and turns towards the stairs. Catches sight of Kix, and his expression flickers oddly, then slides into a smile. “So which Fett are you?”

Kix doesn’t _quite_ roll his eyes, because even if he’s in another department _and_ a medical student in his final year, it’s probably not the best thing to be calling unfamiliar professors smug bastards. “Kix,” he says instead, almost polite. “I didn’t know you and Agen were friends, Professor Vos.”

“He had a crush on me when we were students,” Vos says cheerfully, just as Agen makes a sound of indignation and takes a step forward.

“ _Quinlan_ ,” he says, annoyed in a way Kix has never heard before.

“What?” Vos protests. “Everyone knows that was years ago now.”

Agen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “I had bad taste,” he says.

Instead of getting offended, Vos just laughs. “Probably,” he says cheerfully, then gives Agen a wave, wriggles past Kix on the stairs in a move a man of his bulk shouldn’t be able to pull off, and takes them down three at a time. At the bottom, in a showy and completely unnecessary move, he vaults the railing rather than take four more steps, lands in alley, and tucks his hands in his pockets as he saunters out of view.

“I know he’s a professor,” Kix says after a long, long moment, “but I think he ate a frat boy or something and absorbed his energy.”

Agen snorts, mouth curving just a little as he approaches. “He is an incredibly clever man,” he says. “But you wouldn’t know it from looking at him.”

Kix kind of wants to ask why he was here, but—that’s a little weird. After all, he and Agen are colleagues, and clearly they're friends. And besides, Agen is right in front of him, and that’s more than enough to focus on. He takes two steps up to the actual balcony, smiling—

Agen's eyes are on the roses tucked under Kix's arm, and something flickers across his face, quick and unreadable, before he lifts his gaze. “Those are—” he starts.

Kix blinks, looking down. “Oh, right. Numa gave them to me. I was hoping you had a vase or a wet towel or something, so they’ll survive until I get home.”

It takes a startlingly long moment for Agen to answer, but just as Kix is about to get concerned, he turns, making for the door. “I should,” he says, and Kix frowns, because Agen is usually the first to offer up a hello kiss as soon as Kix is within reach. But he’s not turning, just steps into his apartment and leaves Kix to get the door behind him.

A little baffled, Kix closes it, locks it, and then drops his bag to the side. The apartment smells rich and warm with spices, and he breathes in, then says, “It smells good.”

Agen glances up from where he’s crouched beside a cabinet. “Traditional Iridonian comfort food,” he says, and tips his head, then rises to his feet, holding a vase made of green glass. “Here, this should be large enough.”

“Homesick?” Kix asks, concerned, because he knows Agen had to cancel his usual trip back to Iridonia this year due to university obligations.

Agen pauses, like he’s considering this, and something thoughtful flickers across his face. “Perhaps a little,” he allows, and gives Kix a small smile. “I hadn’t realized.”

Kix smiles back, taking a few careful steps forward. When he reaches out, Agen doesn’t move, and Kix slides his fingers into the long, dark fall of Agen's hair, then up to cup his cheek. Agen ducks, and Kix leans up, and it’s just a kiss, but Kix still feels something settle and ease in his chest.

“Hey,” he says as they separate, and smiles at Agen. “Nice to finally see you.”

With a sound of quiet agreement, Agen leans in, resting their foreheads together for a moment. “I'm glad you're here, Kix,” he says, and Kix huffs and kisses him again.

“Midterms are the _worst_ ,” he mutters, and Agen snorts, lets Kix pull him towards the couch along the wall. When the back of Kix's knees hit it, Agen pushes, and Kix sits down hard on the cushions. Instantly, Agen drops into his lap, knees pressed along his thighs, hands curling around Kix's shoulders. Kix slides his hands under Agen's shirt, up the strong planes of his back, and then down again, tracing the swirl of the tattoos along his spine.

“Weren’t you making dinner?” Kix asks, though he’s far more interested in the line of Agen's collarbone where it’s bared by his shirt than he is in food at the moment. When he sets his teeth against it, Agen's breath hitches, and his fingers tighten, and Kix twists, toppling them over onto the couch so he can slide over Agen completely.

“It won't burn,” Agen says roughly, and drags Kix down into a bruising kiss as he hooks a leg around his waist. Kix goes gladly, shoving Agen's shirt up to get his hands on warm skin, and just—enjoys it.

There's a hell of a lot about Agen to enjoy, anyway.

“So what did Professor Vos want from you?” Kix asks as he picks halfheartedly at his resume, trying his best not to get distracted by the way Agen is stretched out on the thick rug, unashamedly naked. His long hair is tangled around him, and before they met on a hike Kix would have said he didn’t like long hair, but—

Well. He really, really likes it.

Agen hums, stretching lazily, and he’s just like a big cat. Kix watches over the edge of his computer as muscles flex, limbs curl, and Agen settles again, well-fucked and drowsy with it.

“A threesome,” Agen says, amused, and his dark eyes are on Kix, warm with humor. “Of sorts. With himself and Keeli.”

Kix blinks, startled on about three different levels. “A threesome?” he says, and then, “ _Keeli_? Keeli's back? And he’s sleeping with _Vos_?”

“They sound quite committed,” Agen says. “If open to experimenting.” He rolls over, pillowing his head on his folded arms, and his eyes slide shut. “I think Quinlan is in love.”

“Oh,” Kix says, slightly bewildered. He hadn’t even realized Keeli had left the Peace Corps. And—

He and Agen have an open relationship. Kix has slept with other people over the years they’ve been doing this, even if he’s always discussed it with Agen first. Not recently, but—he’s been busy with school, and keeping up with Agen alone is about all he can manage.

Agen's never mentioned seeing other people. Kix just sort of assumed one relationship, even just of mostly sex, was enough for him. To think, suddenly, that Vos and _Keeli_ might be the spice he needs is…unsettling.

“Are you going to do it?” he asks finally, and—

It’s startling to realize, suddenly, that he wants the answer to be no.

Agen doesn’t open his eyes, but he makes a soft sound. “Maybe,” he says, and Kix remembers, like an electric shock, Vos saying that Agen used to have a crush on him.

“Oh,” he says carefully, and sets his computer aside. He’s not going to be able to focus on applications right now anyway. The low-burn urge that he’s been fighting, to slide to the floor and cover Agen again, press his thighs apart and see if he’s still slick enough for another round, is tangling unpleasantly with a knot that’s growing in his stomach, and—

Kix is self-aware, mostly. He can recognize an emotion when it slaps him in the face. And this one is—

Jealousy. He’s _jealous_.

That’s…not a great reaction to have.

“I should go,” Kix blurts, and shoves to his feet, heart just a little too fast in his chests. Is shirt is crumpled by the arm of the couch, and he grabs it, hauls it on even as Agen's eyes open. Looking confused, Agen sits up, but Kix is already grabbing his computer and heading for his bag, trying to straighten his pants enough to button them.

“Kix?” Agen asks in concern, and rises as well, reaching for his pants. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to get this application finished, and try another draft of my resume,” Kix says, a little too quick, and shoves his computer into his bag. Manages a smile as he looks up, stuffing his feet into his shoes, and says, “Thanks for dinner, it was good.”

Agen is frowning faintly, eyes tracing over Kix like he’s trying to understand what’s caused all of this, but he just nods. Kix knows from long experience that Agen doesn’t push, respects boundaries. Usually, Kix loves that about him.

Right now, though, Kix would almost rather he pushed. Wants an argument, or maybe just an excuse to say what’s bubbling up in his chest.

“All right,” is all Agen says, though, and he draws back a step. “You have your keys? Are you safe to drive?”

“It’s been almost three hours since my last glass of wine, I’ll be fine,” Kix says, then grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Later.”

“Goodbye, Kix,” Agen says gravely, and—it’s what he always says, but some flicker of paranoia makes Kix think that it’s some kind of…permanent farewell, when said like that. Like he’s going to come back next time and Agen will have changed the locks so Kix's key won't work.

Kix kind of wants to find Keeli and shake him. Maybe Vos, too. It’s almost unsettlingly tempting.

He manages one last smile for Agen before he’s practically bolting out the door, across the darkened balcony with its fruit trees. He’s already halfway down the steps when Agen turns the balcony light on, and it just makes something knot tighter in Kix's stomach. Agen is kind. Agen is _thoughtful_. If Vos and Keeli want to pull him into their relationship, they're going to end up with the best partner Kix has ever had, and—

“Kix,” Agen says, pitched to carry, and Kix stops dead at the bottom of the stairs. Turns, and blinks at the sight of Agen, barefoot and shirtless and carrying the vase full of roses. It should be a ridiculous image, but it still makes something in Kix's chest turn over, and he realizes suddenly, starkly, that he can't quite breathe when he looks at Agen like this.

“Oh,” Kix says dumbly, and reaches out. Makes to take the vase, but—

His hands are over Agen's on the glass, and he doesn’t want to move them.

“Why do you have a vase?” he asks, and—it’s the stupidest question possible. It’s _dumb_. He shouldn’t be asking—

Agen tips his head faintly, like he’s confused, and he has every right to be. “I like flowers,” he says simply. “I work too much to have them in the apartment frequently, but I think they're beautiful.”

Oh.

Kix swallows, looking at the pale lavender roses in the twilight. He hadn’t known that, but—that’s logical, since he never asked.

He thinks, suddenly, of Agen's face on the balcony when he showed up with roses. Thinks of the way he was quiet for a moment afterwards, and—

He thought Kix had brought him flowers. He though Kix was giving roses to _him_ , and it made him quietly, warmly happy. Right up until Kix had to open his big mouth and ruin it.

“Keep them,” Kix says, and this time the smile is more natural, comes easier. “I have no idea how to keep flowers alive, and you like them, right?”

“They're lovely,” Agen says, serious, but his eyes are on Kix and not the flowers, thoughtful and a little wary. “Won't Numa be sad you gave them away, though?”

“No,” Kix says, and presses his fingers a little more tightly over Agen's for one moment before he lets go. “She was mostly just conning money out of people so she could get a kitten. Besides, if they're here, I’ll still get to see them. right?”

His voice maybe cracks a little on the last word.

“Always,” Agen says gently, and leans down, kissing Kix carefully over the tops of the roses. His mouth is sweet and soft and careful, and Kix makes a low, desperate sound he can't quite help and drags Agen closer, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him back. Takes a breath as Agen finally pulls back, and can't stop himself.

“Please don’t sleep with Keeli,” he says, a little desperate, and can't help but twist his fingers into Agen's soft hair. “I know—I know it’s an open relationship, but—” He stops, swallows. Realizes, with a shock, what he wants to say next, and then says it anyway, even if it’s terrifying. “But I’d rather it was just us. For. Forever.”

Agen's eyes widen, and he pulls back. Kix can't quite read the emotions that flicker across his face, but there's something like hope and something like relief, and when he smiles, it’s warm and intimate. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against Kix's, and says with humor, “It sounds like you're proposing to me.”

It’s very possible that Kix did not, in fact, miss the gene that makes every person in his family an absolute _disaster_ , because he opens his mouth and says, without even thinking about it, “If I am, will you say yes?”

There's a pause as Agen stares at him, expression quietly stunned. Kix feels his heart flip unpleasantly in his chest—

With a shuddering breath, Agen takes a precise step back and sinks down on the last step. Bows his head, hiding his face, and sets the vase aside. He doesn’t move for a long moment, and Kix feels a flicker of worry, takes a step after him and goes down on his knees.

“Agen?” he asks, concerned. “It doesn’t—you can say no, and nothing has to change.”

Agen's fingers close around his wrists, gripping gently. “I would like things to change,” Agen admits, and lifts his head. “I've hoped they would for a very long time.”

Kix's heart jars in his chest, and he slumps forward, right into Agen. Wraps his arms around him, and can feel the careful desperation in the way Agen's arms close around him in return. “You didn’t _say_ anything,” he says, and it’s not meant to be an accusation, just—bewilderment.

Agen hugs him just a little tighter, tucking his face into the curve of Kix's throat. “I didn’t want to add to your stress,” he says quietly. “You were happy the way we were, and that was enough for me.”

Stroking his hair, Kix presses his cheek to the top of Agen's head, then takes a breath. “Then let’s change things,” he says, and it feels reckless, _wonderful_. “I meant it. We can elope. It doesn’t—it doesn’t have to be for anyone but us.”

“Yes,” Agen says, soft, and Kix can feel his smile, small and happy. “I would love to marry you, Kix.”

This is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing Kix has ever done. It’s _definitely_ more in line with something Colt or Keeli would do. but—it’s really, really hard to care when Agen is curled against him, warm and kind and everything Kix has been missing without even knowing he was missing him.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and Agen shakes his head.

“Thank you for the roses,” he says, and Kix laughs despite himself.

Agen kisses the laughter off his lips, and it’s a better ending to the night than Kix ever could have imagined.

“You want _how_ many roses?” Boil demands incredulously.

Kix raises his hands in surrender. “It doesn’t have to be an actual number! Just…as many as you can spare. All of the ones you can spare.”

Boil squints at him suspiciously, but sighs, ruffling his mustache. “You're lucky I was about to clip them anyway. They're not all purple, though.”

“That’s fine. Thanks, Boil.” Kix grins at him, not able to help it.

The suspicion doesn’t abate, even as Boil swings open the gate to let him in. “You're not going to do something terrible to them, like use them to scatter rose petals all over Waxer’s bed or whatever, right?”

“That’s what _you_ would do with them,” Kix says, rolling his eyes, and closes the gate, then crouches down and opens his bag to carefully pull out the big square glass vase he picked up. He and Agen are meeting at the courthouse in two hours, and—well. Kix just wants to bring him something, that's all. “Think you’ll have enough to fill this?”

Boil eyes it, eyes Kix's face and the smile he hasn’t been able to get rid of since Agen said yes. Then, with a snort, he tips his head towards the rose bushes in the back yard and says, “Let’s see what we can do.”


End file.
